Patching Up
by MooseTV
Summary: When Nathan patches up Ezra at the end of "Serpents", some demons are put to the rest.


Patching upDisclaimer: The Magnificent Seven are owned by MGM, TNN, and   
Trilogy/Mirsch and were used without prior permission.   
Comments: After watching "Serpents", I got half a dozen ideas in my delirious   
mind. This is one of them (and also my first M7-fanfic). I'm not a native   
English speaker, so please humour my insufficient language skills. Feedback is   
appreciated, email lee_@firemail.de.  
Thanks to Birgit "Gryph" Stäbler for suffering through my slight (erm, did I say   
slight?) obsession for a certain green eyed gambler with me (and great fondness   
for the other six characters!).   
Thanks to Heather F. for the great discussions. J   
Special thanks to the cast&crew of M7 who managed to produce a show that managed   
to break through a solid creative writer's block of over three years and light a   
spark again.  
  
  
Patching Up  
A Missing Scene for "Serpents"  
  
By Birgit "Lee" Kohls (May 2001)  
  
  
  
  
  
Imbecile,   
You are acting like a fool again,  
In a world of thieves all ready to run you down,  
Imbecile,   
They are waiting till you make your first mistake,  
And you're going to make it,  
That's why I always call you an Imbecile.  
Mike Batt, "Imbecile"-Tarot Suite  
  
„How long would you have run before coming back?"  
"W..what?" Nathan's matter-of-fact question took Ezra Standish by surprise. Ever   
since Jackson had helped him up to the healer's clinic to tend the shotgun wound   
he had suffered when he had rescued Mary Travis from the assassin, Ezra had been   
deep in thoughts, making up all kinds of apologies and half-hearted excuses for   
taking the money while knowing all the time that it would be wasted energy. His   
friends had seen straight through him, and Ezra reluctantly admitted that he had   
allowed himself to think better of himself than he really was. He had succumbed   
to the lure of riches, the 'apple' as Josiah had named it, and now he waited to   
be expelled from paradise for his sin.   
Well, for a moment he really had believed that he had earned enough respect to   
be trusted with all that money. But bottom line was, Ezra just had done as his   
friends knew he would do all along, he had stuffed the bills into his coat and   
run. Of course, there was that unfortunate incident with the younger Stutz,   
which stopped me even before I reached the livery. Chris said I did good.   
It didn't change much on the plain and cold facts. Ezra felt more than just a   
bit disappointed over his actions, his weakness. Just half an hour ago, he had   
turned the shaving mirror in his hotel room, because he couldn't stand to see   
his own face any longer, all that greed, all the unreliability, all the things   
he had thought he had left behind. Conned myself quite good, didn't I?  
The disappointment in his friends' faces when they had detected the money in his   
coat… If he hadn't been such a good poker player, Ezra wasn't sure if he had   
been able to stand through those minutes. For a moment, he had actually wished   
he could melt into the ground below him. The giddy happiness over rescuing Mary,   
the proud feeling of Larabee's commending words, it was all swept away the very   
instant Nathan had discovered the money. The quick apology Ezra had come up with   
had sounded thin, even to his own ears. And Chris hadn't bought it for an   
instant, Standish had seen it in the other man's eyes.   
"How long would you have run?" Nathan repeated seriously. The healers eyes   
seemed to search Ezra's soul.   
"What makes you think I was on the run?" Ezra used a lifetime of experience to   
pretend that he hadn't done what he did, feigning innocence, but he knew that it   
was lost on Jackson. The man wouldn't stop until he had his answer. "I was   
merely seeing to the money's safekeeping."  
"Ezra," Jackson said softly, and it seemed like he had thought about his words   
carefully. "You're not that much able to con your friends as you like to think.   
I know that we hurt you by what we said, and that you were about to run with   
that money."   
"Ouch!" Ezra complained, suddenly glad for the fact that Nathan was cleaning his   
wound. "Well… I was somewhat… disappointed… in the lack of trust you all have in   
me. After all these years… And… by taking it, I just did what you thought of me,   
anyway. Making me rich and getting out of this dustbowl."  
Great, Ezra, you decide to be honest with him now. Oh dear. Why wasn't Nathan   
going on with one of his lectures? Why did he act like the crime Ezra had   
committed had no influence on the healer's opinion of him? Because he knew I am   
a cheat from that first moment we met in the saloon.   
"You know what they say, friendship doesn't count when money gets involved," the   
healer chuckled briefly and reached for a bandage. Ezra's expression became   
unreadable, and Nathan added with a fond smile: "In those two years, how often   
did you try to pull some scheme on us to get money? Apart from cheating at   
cards."  
The gambler swallowed uneasily and grinned nervously. "Mr. Jackson, I can assure   
you that I'd never…"  
"Ezra…" the sparkle of amusement in the brown eyes was undeniable. "You know   
that those smokescreens of yours don't work with me."  
"I have to admit that there was the one or other occasion," Standish felt the   
urge to die right on spot. Of course, he had let his greed for anything valuable   
shine through at every opportunity. Plotting and planning more or less openly on   
how to exploit his friends or some unfortunate stranger whenever there was a   
chance to make a quick buck. Keeping my skills sharp. Yes, mother, so sharp   
that it cuts my soul now, thank you very much.  
"And how often did you actually get through with one of your schemes?" Nathan   
queried, still smiling. His patient stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a   
second head.  
"Since I joined this illustrious group? Not once. I never had much of a chance   
with all that law keeping duties and the six of you supervising me," Ezra sighed   
deeply. Mother would be disappointed, but it was the truth. His associates,   
especially Nathan, had verbally kicked his butt on more than one occasion when   
he had tried to pull through some scam. Well, and there was that one time   
Jackson had catapulted him through the air with that tree, when they had   
defended the wagon train. Very embarrassing, and not kind at all. "I'm sorry,   
Nathan. I guess, the only one that I managed to lure into thinking I'm   
trustworthy is myself. You and the others were just on your toes, and it seems   
that my actions justified your suspicions on my person. I'm a real disgrace for   
my profession."  
The sadness seeped into his voice before he could stop it. Sadness and regret,   
for having a lifetime of cheating, lying and running interfere with the one   
single thing that mattered on the long run. Appearances were not everything, and   
money didn't buy respect and trust. The grudging respect he had earned from his   
six fellow law keepers, the way they had trusted him with their lives even after   
he had ran out on them in the Seminole village… was it all gone now?  
As if taking the money wasn't bad enough in itself, Ezra had failed Chris when   
he was expected to keep an eye on Liver Jones, their prime suspect at the time.   
And what did I do? Complained about not being trusted and let him out of my   
sight. Congrats, Ezra. Always looking out for number one, no matter who pays the   
price. I'm disgusting. He was only grateful that Jones hadn't been the shooter,   
it took a bit of the weight from his shoulders. But at that time that wasn't so   
clear and Larabee's anger had been more than justified. The memory of the   
disgusted look that the gunslinger had darted at the slightly drunk gambler had   
burned a hole through all defences Ezra had ever managed to built up. Mother's   
pride, indeed.  
Apart from his service as lawman in Four Corners, there were only a handful of   
occasions in his screwed up life were he had felt true pride about his actions.   
It had given him a feeling of being richer than all the times when he had won at   
the gaming tables or finished a successful con. No nasty aftertaste, because   
different from monetary value, the pride had lasted.  
Unfortunately, he was left with nothing at all after his downfall. What he had   
built up in so many months he had destroyed single-handed in a matter of hours   
because he had let his hurt feelings and lust for money take the better of him.   
Aw Gawd, why do I feel so ashamed?  
"Who fits the shoe…"  
Ezra winced. "No need to rub it in. I'm very much aware of how my less than   
stellar reputation caught up on me once more."  
"You know, only a year ago, I'd said your reputation was right." Nathan didn't   
smile, but there was a warmth in his voice that was hard to miss. It brought him   
a suspicious look from the suave Southerner. "You were the perfect con man,   
cheat and gambler. Always looking out for number one. You never seemed to care,   
unless you could gain something from it. But," the healer stated bluntly. "You   
are going out of your way to hide and deny all the niceties you committed in the   
time you are with us."  
"I assume that now, after I took the liberty to abscond with the money, you have   
realized that of course all my niceties, as you call them, were mere show?" This   
time, Ezra managed to keep his voice friendly and controlled. He knew that his   
friend was playing him like a fiddle. Just like Sanchez had done in the church.   
Damnation. When had he allowed his protective walls to become so ineffective   
that they could see through them? A disgrace for my profession, indeed.  
"What I realize is that you value the lives of any of us more than all the gold   
on this planet. Even more than your own life," Nathan finished bandaging the   
flesh wound and looked for a sling to fix the arm. "You'd lost more than you'd   
gained if you had run out."  
Oh, don't I know that. "Maybe."   
"Well, I know for sure that we would have lost dearly if you had left."   
Ezra had a smart, sharp stinging reply for this apparent verbal assault on his   
lips, but Jackson continued: "And I don't talk about the money."  
Surprised and somewhat shocked over the serious and honest statement, the   
gambler frantically tried to digest the information and control the emotional   
turmoil inside. "I bet that Mr. Larabee and the rest of our associates will   
disagree with you."   
"You know, I take that bet. Because you'd lose it."  
Ezra snorted. "You have a lot of faith in them."  
"And you, Ezra, have little faith in us."   
The healer seemed to change tactics again and it confused the hell out of Ezra.   
He only too well remembered all the things that they had said, how his little   
safe haven illusion had crumbled to pieces.   
"Mr. Jackson, you all left little room for interpretation about what you believe   
of me."  
"And you interpreted nevertheless. Did you ever stop to think about that not   
everything was meant as it sounded? That all of us were tempted by the money?   
That we all had our demons to fight?" Nathan sighed. "I had that dream last   
night, about being a doctor and living in that great house with Rain. Never   
worry about anything again, buy her all the things she wants…and the only thing   
I had to do was go to Josiah and take those ten thousand."   
"A nice dream, indeed," the gambler agreed. "But you didn't cave in. If any, it   
makes my actions worse."  
"It's a steep road, and it's easy to stumble. You were raised to take the money   
and save your sorry butt. When the chips are down, it's easier to fall back to   
old habits."  
"Let the wicked forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts," Ezra   
quoted, realizing the reason behind the words of the preacher. It hadn't been a   
condemnation from Sanchez, only a reminder to where the change had to come from.   
On Nathan's curious look, Ezra explained: "Just something Josiah said."  
The pieces of the puzzle slipped into place one by one as the preacher's little   
speech echoed through his mind. 'You blame your friends? Blame yourself!' How   
could he expect that they trusted and respected him if he didn't even trust,   
even less respected himself? 'Look inside your own heart, Ezra.' His heart was a   
torn and shattered something, covered with scars, tainted by fear and hurt,   
desperately clinging to gentle feelings he had tried so hard to dispose of a   
lifetime ago. How could he ever expect to find the truth in that mess he was?   
'Face your own demons.' Well, the demons had won, he had been too weak and   
wretched up, to readily wallowing in self pity and delusions to see or take the   
unique chance Josiah Sanchez had offered. Josiah, who had had enough trust in a   
struggling gambler to give him the money despite Larabee's order. Aw hell. How   
could I be so blind?  
"You know, when Chris asked Josiah why he gave the money to you, he said that it   
would serve a purpose." Nathan looked at the stricken man in front of him. "I   
didn't really understand it right then… but when we waited for that assassin to   
strike, it hit me. I thought, if it's this tempting for me, how bad must it be   
for you? I mean, it would be like locking up Buck in a room with a dozen pretty,   
stark naked, willing ladies after him being on the trail for two weeks… and   
expect him to keep his hands off them. Or any other body part, for the matter."  
Involuntarily, the Southerner had to laugh at the comparison. Don't do this to   
me, Nathan. Hate me, yell at me. Don't make it harder for me to keep my distance   
now that I've fallen from grace.   
"He wanted you to put some demons to rest, didn't he?" There was a new respect   
in the healer's voice, as he apparently tried to imagine what the gambler   
must've gone through.   
"Your assumption is correct, Mr. Jackson. But it seems that those demons of mine   
are harder to extinct than our dear Mr. Sanchez thought," Ezra admitted   
ruefully, rubbing the back of his head with his good hand. It was just like J.D.   
had said, they trusted him, just not with money. And now they never would,   
because he had ruined the chance to prove himself beyond doubt. "I've been such   
an idiot."  
"Yep," the healer chuckled at the self-recrimination, and received a deadly   
glare from Standish. "It's a long road, but I guess we stand a good chance if   
all seven of us walk together."  
"Seven men, one destiny," Ezra contemplated loudly, then shook his head. One   
destiny. Magnificent Seven. One team, against all odds. Cheesy words from a dime   
store novel. But what were the odds of meeting these men he called friends, of   
being offered all those 'second' chances? "I guess I'll have to change more than   
I thought to fit into this career choice of mine."  
"You know, I never thought I'd say that, but…" Nathan said with a mischief smile   
as he fastened the sling and helped the gambler to his feet. "Don't change too   
much. You are a good man under all that cocky, cheatin' good-for-nothin' gambler   
attitude of yours."   
Standish needed a moment to absorb this, his feelings too close to the surface   
to be effectively controlled. After a few seconds, he grinned. "Now, does that   
mean that in the future I'll be spared your inept attempts to indoctrinate me   
with that ethical convention you seem to consider adequate for an ol' Southerner   
boy like me, Mr. Jackson?"  
"Hell, no!" Nathan laughed and ushered his friend out of the clinic. "Ya know   
what? Let's go and see if you can talk Chris into splitting up that money so   
that I can buy a wedding ring for Rain with my share."  
  
There's a heart that must be free to fly,  
That burns with a need to know the reasons why.  
Why must we all conceal  
What we think, how we feel?  
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?  
Reflection, Pop Version, Mulan   
  
  
End 


End file.
